Page 101 of Good as Gold
“It’s still flat,” she whispers. “For now.”
“Not for long, though.” I dip underneath her cotton top, my fingers on her smooth skin. Her breath catches, and my body flashes with the sudden heat of knowing that I put a baby inside her. “When did we conceive?”
“Early August.” She puts her hand on top of mine.
“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”
She shakes her head. “Not yet. I asked them not to tell me yet. I wanted to talk to you first.”
I close my eyes and picture Leila holding a little baby in her arms. A tiny Leila, or a little dude? It doesn’t matter. They’re both equally amazing and also equally baffling.
People call it the “miracle of life,” and that always sounded like a cliché to my ears.
It doesn’t anymore.
“I know I kept this from you until now. But not because I haven’t been thinking about you.”
“Is that right?” I stroke my thumb across her tummy and feel her shiver. “In what way have you been thinking about me, exactly?”
“Matteo,” she scolds, and I laugh. My chest is light for the first time in ages.
CHAPTER37
LEILA
With his free hand, Matteo turns my chin, so I have no choice but to look at him. Rich brown eyes are waiting for an answer.
But I feel too overcome with emotion to speak. Curled into Matteo’s lap, his strong arms around me, I feel immense relief.
I was prepared for every possible emotional result when I told him my secret. But he’s so happy that I feel silly now.
How exactly have you been thinking about me, was his question, but the truth wouldn’t be fair to him. My thoughts are greedy, impossible things well beyond the scope of our arrangement.
It’s hard to know what to say, but his gaze is so warm it’s like sunshine on my face. “I was wondering what our child will look like,” I say quietly. “Brown eyes, for sure.”
A slow smile forms on his rugged face. “Brown hair,” he whispers. “Could be wavy, like yours. Or straighter, like mine. But either way, this kid can rock the long hair.”
I laugh, because I’ve been craving a conversation just like this one. “Will our kid have your ego?”
“Myego? And who used to make everyone address her asher highness?”
We both crack up.
Then it happens. Matteo leans in and kisses me, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
And it is, I guess. His mouth softens onto mine, and he smells so familiar I could cry. Like flannel and soap. I part my lips, like I’ve done a thousand times before, and he tastes me slowly.
His beard tickles my fingers when I lift my hands to his face. I settle into our kiss, like sinking into a warm bath.
He’shome. Finally.
After a few delicious moments, Matteo kicks his legs onto my sofa, so that we’re both horizontal. I wiggle closer, and our kisses slowly blur together. Our feet tangle in the weak sunlight streaming in through the windows.
When I dream about him, it’s just like this—hot, easy kisses. I dream of joining our bodies together again.
I dream of a rounded belly, his hand on it.
And I dream of us putting together a crib in the second bedroom.
